Gemotions

He leaned against the weathered wooden fence, watching the sunset paint the sky in hues of orange and purple. The familiar scent of wood smoke and autumn leaves filled the air. This was the place, their place. He felt a deep, warm glow spread through his chest.

He took a step towards the porch. "Sarah?" he called out, his voice carrying on the wind.

A woman emerged from the house, her face etched with a look he didn't recognise. She was wearing a different style of clothing, her hair pulled back away from her face.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"It's Ben," he replied, a small laugh bubbling up in his chest. "From the summers… the creek, the fireflies…" He paused, watching her reaction.

She frowned. "I'm sorry, I don't believe I've ever met a Ben."